


seven day's luck

by togekissies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Space, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Firsts, M/M, One Shot Collection, SemiShira Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7256725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/togekissies/pseuds/togekissies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(semishira week fic collection)</p><p>One: Semi and Shirabu go on a date.<br/>Two: Shirabu can't stand executive meddling more than he can't stand Semi.<br/>Three: Shirabu and Semi are just kids at reform school, discussing treason on the roof in the way only prideful teenagers can.<br/>Four: Semi is a nostalgic loser. Shirabu pushes him in a creek.<br/>Five: Semi steals some intel. Shirabu doesn't like patching him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. day one (canon compliant)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i hope you're as excited for semishira week as i am!
> 
> my original idea for this would be to write two short fics for each day, both taking place in the same verse/story... but that would be too much work. instead i decided to smush them together. one prompt will be more obvious than the other in each fic, probably. 
> 
> i'm also working on these freakishly out of order, so don't expect me to update this on time. i have day 1, day 7, and day 4 done. i... didn't think this through very well. lol.
> 
> enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semi and Shirabu go on a date.

“Oh, wow,” Semi says. He takes a few steps away from Kenjiro, beyond the scattered clusters of trees and into a small clearing. There’s a bench facing the walking path, and a rail along the edge of the cliff. Semi places one hand on the railing and gazes out at the view. “You can see the whole town from here.”

Kenjiro stands next to him and looks at the orange sky. “I don’t think we’re going to make it to the top in time,” he says, keeping his tone even. He’s disappointed in himself for timing their climb poorly. 

“That’s okay, I think here is fine.” Semi points at something in the distance. “Hey, is that the arcade we were just at?”

Kenjiro becomes very aware of the stuffed sheep taking up too much room in his backpack. Semi won it at the arcade and presented it to him, saying he wished they had rabbits instead because he knows Kenjiro likes them. It took all of Kenjiro’s strength to not throw it back at him out of embarrassment.

“I don’t see it,” Kenjiro says.

“You might need glasses.”

“I do not,” Kenjiro says, frowning. “You’re just making shit up. I bet you can’t see it either.”

Semi smiles at him. Kenjiro hates how that smile makes his heart skip, so he stares stubbornly over the town and at the setting sun. 

“Do you come out here a lot?” Semi asks. Killing time at an arcade was Semi’s idea, but    
Kenjiro was the one to suggest watching the sunset from the mountain that overlooks Shiratorizawa.

“No, actually, never.” Kenjiro says. “My parents used to come out here a lot, when they were younger.”

“Did they?” Semi says, delighted. Kenjiro ignores him. “Don’t tell me this is a popular date spot.” Kenjiro ignores him harder. “I didn’t know you were a romantic, Shirabu.”

Kenjiro fails at ignoring him. “Shut up and watch the sunset,” he snaps.

“That wasn’t a no.”

Kenjiro groans. Semi, satisfied that he’s riled Kenjiro enough for the evening, mercifully doesn’t say anything else. He rests his arms on the railing and gazes out over the city.

When thinking of things to do on their first date, Kenjiro worried that watching the sunset would be dull. Sunsets mostly inconvenience him in his daily life, after all, because the window in his dorm faces west. He’s surprised to find that he enjoys watching the sky change from orange, to vibrant pink, and settle on grey-blue. It’s relaxing. He’d go so far as to say it’s pleasant.

“Semi—” Kenjiro says, turning to him. He stops when he sees Semi staring at him like he hadn’t watched the sunset at all.

“Yes?”

Kenjiro almost says it, but then he says, “Nevermind,” and turns back to the view.

Semi nudges him with his elbow. “What is it?”

Kenjiro takes in a deep breath, drums his fingers on the railing, and says, “Can you kiss me?”

“Oh,” Semi says. He laughs nervously and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, I-I can do that.”

Kenjiro doesn’t know what kissing involves, so he lets Semi take the lead. Semi cups Kenjiro’s cheek with the palm of his hand and presses their lips together. Kenjiro’s hands freeze on the railing, and he isn’t sure if he’s supposed to breathe or not. Semi thankfully pulls back before Kenjiro has the chance to overthink it. 

Semi ducks his head, smiling. Kenjiro’s lips and his cheek where Semi touched him are tingling. It’s not a bad feeling.

Semi asks, “How was it?” which is significantly more awkward than the kiss itself.

“It was nice,” Kenjiro says.

“Just nice?”

Kenjiro turns his head away so Semi can’t see him grinning. “There’s room for improvement.” 

Semi laughs and leans close, so his breath is warm on Kenjiro’s ear. “And what do  _ you _ know about kissing?”

Kenjiro faces him so they’re nose to nose, and is about to reply when a sharp laugh pierces the night. They both jump. 

A young couple, a guy and a girl who look a couple years older than them, are walking down from the peak of the mountain. The guy has his arm around the girl’s shoulders, and they’re talking loudly. They don’t notice the two surprised high schoolers watching them. Semi and Kenjiro stare at them, frozen in place, until they disappear around the treeline and they can no longer hear them.

“...Looks like it’s a good thing we didn’t make it to the top,” Semi comments.

Kenjiro nods. The atmosphere from before is gone, killed by that damn couple, and Kenjiro is scrambling for things to do. He doesn’t want to go back to the dorms just yet. But a kiss signals the end of a date, doesn’t it? He shouldn’t have asked for one.

Semi, oblivious to Kenjiro’s inner turmoil, seems as happy as ever. “I bet there’s no one there now,” he says.

“So?”

“How about we do some stargazing?” 

“There’s too much light pollution,” Kenjiro replies automatically, then he presses his lips together. He can’t believe he almost shot down a chance to make their date last longer. No wonder Kawanishi tells him he’s too much of a know-it-all. “That is to say—sure. Let’s do it.” 

Semi slips his hand into Kenjiro’s, and Kenjiro’s heart does something funny. They’ve never held hands before, either. Semi smiles at him, and they walk hand in hand up the mountain.


	2. day two (detective show au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shirabu can't stand executive meddling more than he can't stand Semi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm late!!! i figured i'd eventually be late, but there was a terrible storm in my area the other day that blew out power and knocked down a ton of trees, one of which trapped me at work for a couple hours. then i went to a baseball game. all in all a fun day. hopefully i can catch upfffffttt haha i'm not gonna catch up. i'm determined to finish though, so just... expect the rest of my semishira week stuff late lol.

Eita is the only person in the break room when Shirabu opens the door. He grumbles his way in, slamming the door behind him with his foot, and groans when he notices Eita sitting at the table. Eita raises his eyebrows. He knows Shirabu isn’t exactly fond of him, but usually this amounts to just ignoring him. 

Shirabu makes a beeline for the coffee machine and pours the remainder of the pot in the criminally large travel mug he has with him every day. Eita knows from experience that only a full pot will fill that damn thing up, and there wasn’t even a third left. Poor Shirabu is going to have to make a new pot. Which he sets out to do, punctuated by muttered swearing.

“Stop judging me, I’m  _ tired _ ,” Shirabu snaps.

Eita can’t help himself, and he says, “Have you ever tried this thing called sleep?”

“Never heard of it,” Shirabu shoots back. He’s not so tired his wit has dulled, it seems.

Eita sips his own coffee in his reasonably sized mug. He has that week’s script in front of him, and he’s supposed to be memorizing lines. That’s been the biggest hurdle he’s had with transitioning into weekly filming. He’s had small acting roles before, but never a main part, and never something he’s had to memorize a script a week for. It’s still a struggle, even with Nametsu, his co-star, giving him tips whenever she can. 

But he can’t focus right now. Something at the back of his mind has distracted him all day, and now that Shirabu is right in front of him he can’t stop thinking about it.

“I overheard the producers talking with you,” he says. Shirabu tenses, but doesn’t turn to glare at him like Eita thought he would. “And I’d just like to say that I agree with you. I think it would be a terrible idea to make K and L’s relationship romantic.”

Shirabu slams the bag of coffee beans on the counter. “At least someone around here understands  _ something _ about my characters.”

Of course he understands their characters, Eita thinks with a twinge of pride. He’s a novice actor, but takes great pains to play his character, K, as accurately as possible. He and Nametsu have hours-long conversations about it, dissecting their roles. He knows K and L are pseudonyms chosen by a pair of childhood friends when they met up again in high school and started a detective agency. He knows the show they’re working on now takes place ten years later. He also knows about all the emails and meetings and executive meddling Shirabu has had to deal with already.

Eita can sympathize. Shirabu is in a similar position as he is—this is the first tv show he’s written for, and it’s based off a series of short stories he wrote in high school, titled  _ K: Ace Detective _ and published mainly online. He must feel in over his head, trying to argue for his vision with industry professionals who have been here for decades. Eita remembers being surprised to learn Shirabu is only six months younger than him. 

He knows him well enough by now to know even hinting at any of their similarities is a terrible idea, though, and doesn’t say any of this.

Eita watches Shirabu measure out water, coffee grounds, and finally set the machine. He props his chin in his palm and says, “I was a big fan of your stories in high school, you know.” 

Shirabu freezes. Eita thinks he’s going to get the cold shoulder again, but Shirabu turns and faces him, his face a mask. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I read a lot between shoots.” Eita busies himself by shuffling through the pages of his script. He almost admitted he didn’t have many friends due to his hectic modeling schedule, so one of the things he did in his rare downtime was read anything he could get his hands on. “Most of it was garbage, but I really liked  _ K _ . It made me feel normal, somehow.”

Shirabu stares at him. “There’s one story where the client turned out to be a ostrich alien.”

Eita shrugs. If he has no defense for the weird shit he read as a kid, then Shirabu has no defense for writing it. “I liked that one, actually.”

Shirabu scoffs. The coffee machine beeps, the water boiling hot, and starts brewing the coffee. The break room is silent, save for the gurgling of the coffee machine. Shirabu stares at a spot on the wall, brows furrowed in thought. The bags under his eyes are darker than usual. Eita starts tapping a pen on the table. 

He still can’t focus on the script. He’s tried to read the same line at least a dozen times, and hasn’t absorbed a lick of it. “I always thought,” he says, startling both himself and Shirabu. Shirabu looks at him. He doesn’t look nearly as put-off by Eita’s presence as he usually does, and they sort of had a conversation going, and Eita’s always been one who has a hard time talking himself out of doing stupid risky shit, so he finishes his sentence: “I always thought K was gay.”

Shirabu inhales sharply. He stares at Eita. He doesn’t look particularly angry. He just looks surprised. There’s no automatic reaction of deny, deny, deny that usually follows these sort of conversations. He opens his mouth, hesitates, then closes it again. Shirabu looks away and says, “Are you?”

It’s a personal, invasive question that makes Eita feels like he’s been stabbed in the gut. He hasn’t told most of his close friends and guilt has taken root over the years for hiding part of himself from those he loves, and maybe that’s why he says, “I’m bi.”

“I see,” Shirabu says. He shifts his weight from foot to foot. Eita can see the war he’s waging with himself. It doesn’t take long for Shirabu to come to a decision and straighten his back. “You’re not wrong,” he says, “I did intend for him to be gay.”

Eita is a little disappointed Shirabu didn’t come out to him in return, but he also understands that fear. It’s enough for him to admit that his main character was never meant to be straight. “Then there’s your answer to your dilemma,” Eita says. “He’s gay. He can’t date L.”

“Then how am I supposed to get them off my back?” Shirabu says, exasperated. 

He’s sure Shirabu asked it rhetorically, but Eita answers, “If they want a romance, give them one.”

Shirabu stares at him, wide eyed. “Look, I’m not ready for rocking the boat—what are you even  _ saying _ ? Do you know what that would do to m—” He cuts himself off, probably noticing what he’s asking someone who just came out to him, and shuts his mouth tightly.

“I didn’t mean give K a boyfriend,” Eita says, “I meant give L one.”

“Oh,” Shirabu says, voice small. “That’s an idea...” He presses a finger to his lips, deep in thought, but then the coffee machine beeps to cheerfully inform Shirabu his coffee is ready. He busies himself with filling up his mug, forgoing sugar and cream like usual, and leaves the last bit of coffee in the pot to cool for the next idiot who comes along.

Shirabu turns and walks to the door, muttering to himself, and Eita guesses he’s back to being ignored. He looks back at his script. A weird weight is gone from his shoulders, and he finds he can focus on reading once more.  _ Scene: K’s office, things strewn all over, desk overturned, obviously robbed— _

But his concentration is broken once again when Shirabu says, “Thanks,” and is out the door before Eita can even look up.

Eita stares at the door, wondering which of the million things that happened in that room he just got thanked for. He stands up so quickly he nearly knocks his chair over. He throws the door open and hangs into the hallway, holding on to the doorway for balance. 

“Asking me that was rude, you know!” he hollers after Shirabu. Shirabu turns around, startled, and looks so ashamed Eita takes pity on him and adds, “If you need any help writing romance, feel free to ask me.”

Shirabu’s face quickly falls into a scowl. “Thanks, I’ve got it,” he says, tone clipped, and he hurries around the corner and out of sight.

Eita grins, oblivious to the bewildered stage managers staring at him, and retreats back into the break room. It’s a start. 


	3. day three (space spy au, pre-spy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shirabu and Semi are just kids at reform school, discussing treason on the roof in the way only prideful teenagers can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first part of what i've been calling a space spy au, or, environmental activism IN SPACE! the second part is on day 7. pew pew pew (laser gun sounds)
> 
> written for the prompt "promises"

Semi closes the door behind them as quietly as possible, and Kenjiro can’t help the nervousness bubbling up in his throat. “We’re going to get locked out here,” he says, his voice low.

Semi doesn’t reassure him, or produce a secret key, or anything of the sort. He just says, “This is important,” and walks along the walls until he’s at the one part of the roof that’s out sight of both the door and the ground below. Kenjiro follows, still uneasy.

Lunch just ended. The staff at their boarding school (“for troubled kids,” every students says under their breath when teachers aren’t looking) is strict about timetables. They’re going to get into massive trouble for not being in their afternoon classes. They’ll be in even more trouble if they’re discovered on the roof. And Kenjiro doesn’t want to  _ think  _ about the trouble they’ll be in if Semi really does have a—

Semi unzips his backpack and pulls out a textbook. On the front is the most breathtaking photo Kenjiro has ever seen. It’s of a couple smiling people on what Kenjiro thinks must be a primitive boat, fiberglass painted a shiny red, and the plants are so green and the water is crystal clear and Kenjiro catches himself saying, “Is that real?”

“Yup,” Semi says, smiling. “It’s my mother’s. She said it’s been passed down her family for generations. I think it’s about a thousand years old or something, so be careful with it.”

They sit with the backs against the wall, closer than they would if they weren’t trying to share a book. Semi opens it and flips a few pages, then sets it so it’s balanced on both of their laps. Kenjiro touches the pages gingerly. It  _ is _ old, the pages yellowed and brittle. He catches a few words here and there—tropical, equator, and river—but he’s too in awe to make sense of it all.

“This is about a place called, uh, let’s see... South America, it was really hot and humid,” Semi explains, pointing at the article header. He starts flipping more pages. “And—and, here, this is a place called Europe.” Semi stops at a chapter cover, which has what looks like a map of this place. “It was a lot colder there. Snowed every year, apparently.”

“On the same planet?” Kenjiro asks, disbelieving. Typically if a planet has more than one kind of climate, it’s usually terrible weather and slightly less terrible weather.

“Not only that, but different regions had entirely different governments.”

“You’re fucking with me,” Kenjiro says.

Thankfully, Semi is too caught up in sharing his forbidden knowledge to lecture Kenjiro for his tone. He just says, “I’m not kidding. There’d be as many as a hundred distinct governments in a tiny portion of the planet. And they didn’t have the means to settle in the water parts, so the entire population was on the bits of land.”

“Water parts,” Kenjiro echos. “What do you mean by water parts?”

Semi flips to the back of the book. On the inside back flap there’s a flat, oval shaped map. Parts of it are filled in with a light blue, and the rest divided into weird, arbitrary shapes and done in all sorts of different colors. Semi traces his fingers along the blue. “All of this? It’s water.”

“No way,” Kenjiro says. He can name about half a dozen water planets off the top of his head, but none of them are half land like this one. If there’s any, it’s just dots of small islands here and there, owned by the rich and fabulous and never visited.

“Or, it was water,” Semi corrects himself. “It’s all barren land now.”

Kenjiro gathers his courage and thumbs through the pages, much slower than Semi had. He pauses over every picture, touches it carefully, and reads the caption without absorbing any of it. The people look like the people he sees every day, but their clothing is so varied, ranging from eye searingly colorful to monochrome, and there’s no correlation between color and how much of their bodies it covers. But the pictures of the planet, of the multitude of green, leafy plants, the tiniest bug, the large, grey creatures with big ears and long noses—they fascinate him.

When Kenjiro pauses on a page titled  _ Asia _ , Semi stops him. He points to one of the shapes that’s apparently a country, one that looks like a long bean. “You aren’t going to believe me,” he says, “but I was born here.”

Kenjiro stares at him. “No you weren’t. No one’s even  _ been _ to the Earth in hundreds of years.” Why would Semi go through all this trouble just to feed Kenjiro an implausible lie?

“Surveyors,” Semi reminds him. “They go there every twenty years or so to check the status of the land, remember?” Kenjiro nods. Someone like him isn’t supposed to know, so of course he does. “My mom was on the last one. She didn’t know she was pregnant when she went. And a tour lasts a year—it’s not like she could have left.” Semi looks out in the distance, eyes unfocused. “Supposedly that made me some sort of ill omen. I think that’s part of the reason I was sent to this school.”

Kenjiro tries his hardest not to believe Semi, he really does, but he’s never known Semi to be a liar. He asks, “What’s it called, that little bean country?”

“Bean country?” Semi asks, shaking his head. “Japan. It’s called Japan.”

“I want to go,” Kenjiro says.

“To Japan?”

“To all of it. I want to go to Earth.” Kenjiro gazes at the book. “I don’t care if it doesn’t look like this anymore. I don’t care if it’s inhospitable. I don’t care if I  _ die. _ I need to see it.”

“Why don’t we—” Semi starts, but then he shuts his mouth and presses a couple fingers to his lips, like he’s deep in thought.

“Why don’t we what?” Kenjiro prompts.

“It’s stupid, I guess,” Semi mumbles. Kenjiro gives him a flat look. “Alright, fine. Why don’t we... restore it? Ourselves?”

Kenjiro’s heart catches in his throat. “Is that... even possible?”

“My mom, she said her readings didn’t match what the official report said—so, maybe. We could try.” Semi looks at Kenjiro. “Either way, we’ll go see it. And I promise you, we  _ will _ see it.”

Kenjiro allows himself one small, hopeful smile. It’ll be difficult. Earth is forbidden topic, only ever mentioned by the authorities to remind the populace about the planet that betrayed the human race. Information has to be gathered illegally, at the risk of death. And that’s not even touching on getting to the planet itself, which would involve them getting a ship and then evading patrols for months on end. Kenjiro and Semi are just kids at reform school, discussing treason on the roof in the way only prideful teenagers can. Chances are, they won’t make it.

But the book that Kenjiro holds in his hands—it fills him to the brim with hope.

“We’ll see it,” Kenjiro says that afternoon under the hazy pink sky, “together.”


	4. day four (childhood friends au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semi is a nostalgic loser. Shirabu pushes him in a creek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt: childhood!
> 
> i love childhood friends aus, especially when they're separated for a number of years for whatever reason and are reunited. i also love the idea of shirabu being a crybaby when he's a kid lmao

The playground looks a lot smaller than Eita remembers. He must have been nine or ten when he last saw it, so he isn’t exactly surprised. He’s mostly disappointed. He remembers the swings and merry-go-round being a lot of fun—but he wouldn’t fit now.

Kenjiro exits his parents’ house and walks up to Eita, an eyebrow raised. “What are you doing out here?”

“Do you remember—” Eita starts.

“Ugh, here we go.” Kenjiro rolls his eyes.

“—When we used to play in the woods all the time,” Eita finishes, frowning.

“I don’t recall,” Kenjiro says in that tone that says he does, but doesn’t care to continue with the topic.

But Eita is stubborn, and _he_ wants to talk about it. “You shouldn’t have invited me if you didn’t want a trip down memory lane,” he points out. “I wanna go look. Come with me?”

“Why are you like this,” Kenjiro says, deadpan. “Always. Even in high school. It’s like you obsess over me when I was a kid and dribbled snot all over you.”

“Not really,” Eita says, thinking about how cute Kenjiro was when he was young and sweet and not a snarky jackass. “You were taller than me when I moved.”

Kenjiro freezes. “What?”

“I’m going. Call me if dinner starts early.”

Eita steps off the curb, crosses the street, and is walking past the playground when Kenjiro catches up to him. “We’re supposed to be visiting my family,” he says irritably.

“They can live without us for fifteen minutes.”

Kenjiro groans. Eita waits for him to voice the question on his mind. They walk into the trees and Eita can just barely spot the curve of the creek when Kenjiro says, “I was never taller than you.”

Close enough to a question, Eita thinks. “Yes you were. We were the same height for a while. I vividly remember the day I realized you were taller than me, because I went home and sulked in my room.”

“You sulked,” Kenjiro repeats, as if the mere idea of his courageous, kind-hearted childhood best friend sulking was incomprehensible. “I don’t remember this.”

“I’m not surprised. You _did_ worship the ground I walked on.”

“Did not.”

“Did too. I was your personal hero.” Eita grins.

They come up to the bank of the creek. It used to seem like an endless river when he was little, but now it just looks like a shallow creek that’s annoyingly too wide to jump across. They somehow came up to the exact spot they used to cross all the time, with the stones they jumped to. Beyond the creek is a cluster of trees that the two of them called their secret base. One dry summer the creek dried up, and the two of them carried neat stuff they found into it, like old furniture left at the side of the road. He wonders if they’re still there.

“Remember that time we fell in the creek?” Eita asks.

“Which one?” Kenjiro replies.

Eita laughs. He steps down the bank, onto the first stone, then the next, then extends his hand to Kenjiro to help him down.

Kenjiro scowls. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

Eita steps back to give Kenjiro space, but he can’t help but talk. “You’ve said something like that to me before. The summer before I moved. It was after all that rain, remember?”

“Kind of.”

“The creek swelled, and you almost started crying—”

“I suddenly don’t remember.”

Eita can’t stop talking, and he can’t stop smiling, either, even when Kenjiro stands on a rock in the creek and part of Eita hears alarm bells, which he ignores like a dumbass. “I told you to hold my hand if you were scared, and you looked at me—exactly like that, actually, I should have known then what kind of brat you’d become—”

“Keep moving, Eita,” Kenjiro says, impatient.

“You told me you weren’t a baby anymore,” Eita continues, jumping to the next rock. It’s the biggest one, in the middle of the creek. “While you were practically in tears, by the way, it wasn’t very convincing.”

Kenjiro jumps on the same rock Eita is on, but it’s a lot smaller than he remembers and they both barely fit. Eita automatically grabs Kenjiro’s arm to steady him. And Kenjiro, seemingly apathetic to their very precarious location, leans in close, as if he’s going to kiss Eita.

“And then what happened?” Kenjiro asks.

“Uh,” Eita says, thrown off by how close Kenjiro’s lips are to his. “Well, you slipped. Fell in. Skinned your knee. It was pretty bad, I thought you were dying for a while.”

Kenjiro presses forward until his lips are ghosting over Eita’s and says, “Let’s hope you don’t skin yours.”

“What?” Eita says stupidly, and Kenjiro pushes him in the creek.

The creek is just deep enough that the seat of Eita’s pants is soaked through immediately, and the rocky bottom bruises his palms. The water is cool, in stark contrast to the warm, sticky summer air. Eita thinks it might have been refreshing, if it weren’t for the stupid way he ended up there.

Kenjiro stands dry on the rock, laughing. Eita splashes water at him, but misses. “That was _not fair_ ,” he complains.

“You have to admit you set yourself up,” Kenjiro says.

Eita stands, dripping water everywhere, and, ugh, his shoes are soaked through. He sloshes over to Kenjiro—poor, unsuspecting Kenjiro—grabs him around the waist and yanks him down into the water. Kenjiro yelps and flails, which thoroughly soaks both of them.

Eventually Kenjiro managed to shove Eita away. He looks just as wet as Eita feels, with his shirt sticking to his chest and his hair a mess. “Fuck you,” he says, trying to wipe the water off his face. He only succeeded in smearing his cheek with mud.

“You love me,” Eita says with a smug grin.

Kenjiro sighs. “Mom’s gonna hose us off when we go back,” he says. “Again.”

“She’ll find it just as nostalgic,” Eita says, which makes Kenjiro groan. Eita smiles at him fondly, but slowly his face slips into seriousness as he studies Kenjiro. Water drips from his hair, down his face, neck, arms—and Eita’s eyes keep returning to his lips. “Kenjiro,” Eita says. Kenjiro looks up. “It was rude of you to tease me like that.”

“Tease?” Kenjiro repeats, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean by tease—”

Eita kisses him. He keeps one hand on the creek bed to steady himself and puts the other on Kenjiro’s hip while Kenjiro kisses him back. Kenjiro’s mouth is hot, and his shirt is rough under Eita’s fingers, and Kenjiro pushes Eita’s wet hair back, and Kenjiro stops kissing his mouth to kiss at his neck, and—he stops.

Eita notices the noise carrying through the trees. He and Kenjiro stare in horror down the creek, at a group of kids that are hopping across at a much narrower portion. The kids haven’t noticed the two of them, tangled together in the muddy creek water, and just as Eita thinks maybe they’ll never know they were there, a kid glances their way.

“Adults!” the kids screams. The other kids looks to where he’s pointing, then start shrieking. One falls into the creek, scrambles out, and runs. The other kids follow, taking their cacophony with them.

Kenjiro pushes away from Eita and flops on his back. The creek water comes up to his ears. “Just kill me now,” he groans.

“They didn’t see anything,” Eita says, patting Kenjiro’s thigh reassuringly. “They just ran away because we’re... old, I guess.”

“ _You’re_ old,” Kenjiro grumbles.

“Your birthday was last month. We’re the same age. _We’re_ old.”

Kenjiro does a terrible job of hiding his smirk. “Is that so,” he says, somehow keeping his tone even. Eita hates this half the year. Kenjiro becomes insufferable.

Eita hoists himself up and stands. There isn’t one bit of him that isn’t wet or caked with mud, and Kenjiro is in a similar state. “C’mon, let’s go,” he says, grabbing Kenjiro’s hands and pulling him up. Kenjiro plucks a dead leaf from Eita’s hair.

“Tell me more about how I was taller than you,” he says.

“I think I hear your mom calling us,” Eita says, throwing his arm around Kenjiro’s shoulders. Kenjiro rolls his eyes, but lets himself be pulled up the creek bed and back on dry land. Before they leave the tree cover, Eita presses his lips to Kenjiro’s ear and mutters, “Later, you should go back to kissing my neck. It felt nice.”

“It tasted disgusting,” Kenjiro says, turning his head. He’s can’t completely hide his smile from Eita. “And not in my parents' house. I’m not having more than one childhood memory ruined in a day.”

“We’ll see,” Eita says. Kenjiro elbows him. Across the street, Kenjiro’s mother gasps at the sight of how dirty they are.


	5. day seven (space spy au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semi steals some intel. Shirabu doesn't like patching him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been three months so i think it's time to admit that i'm never going to write stuff for day 5 and day 6. i wrote this one second, i believe? but i held back on posting it because i thought i'd do the two missing days. OH WELL. if i ever do them (lol!) i can always just add them in.
> 
> part of the reason i never started working on the two missing days is because after semishira week ended i turned all of my energy to writing my hqhols fic. i hope you don't mind the plug, but i love my hols fic a lot and would love it if you would check it out! it's an alisae fantasy/adventure fic that is meant to be an easy read, like a fun book you'd read as a kid, except better because there's lesbians. a few people have commented to say they love my aus, and i think that my hols fic really showcases the care i put into my aus.
> 
> [check it out here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7543645)
> 
> alright, now that my self advertising is over, here is the second part of the space spy au! this one involves kissing this time, because i am self indulgent as hell. thank you for sticking with me through my three month long semishira week fic, and i hope you enjoy!

The door to the tiny apartment opens. Kenjiro holds his breath and draws his gun. He tucks himself around a corner and out of sight, and listens. He’s reasonably certain he knows who’s walking in the door, but the constant blizzard of this planet messes with his tracking devices, and Kenjiro is too cautious to take chances.

In the entryway he can hear someone stomping snow out of boots. “Shirabu, where the hell are you? My arms are frozen, help me out of this damn coat.”

Kenjiro lowers his gun and sighs. “You’re supposed to give the code phrase first, Semi.”

Semi swears loudly. “Look, it’s been a long day, I don’t remember the code phrase—I swear I will haunt you if you shoot me because I forgot it—” He pauses and Kenjiro can hear a violent unzipping sound. He peeks around the corner to see Semi losing the battle with his ice encrusted coat. “If you  _ really _ want me to prove I’m myself, I still remember some embarrassing stuff you don’t wanna hear. Like when you once dispatched Wakatoshi to the entirely wrong planet for a mission. Or when we were in high school and you—”

“That’s enough,” Kenjiro says. He sets his gun down on a small table when he walks around the corner. “Stand still and don’t hurt yourself.”

Semi frowns, or at least Kenjiro thinks he’s frowning. He can’t see his face behind the scarf he has tied around his neck and up to his ears. He stops moving, at least. Kenjiro finishes unzipping the zipper down the front of his coat, then undoes the clasps at Semi’s neck and at his wrists. Semi shrugs off the coat and lets it and his scarf drop unceremoniously on the ground. His nose is bright red from the cold and he scowls as he bites the tip of his gloves to take them off.

Semi hates the cold. He never complains, so if Kenjiro had to guess he’d say that no one else on their team even knows that. Semi suffers quietly, nobly, except Kenjiro is overly familiar with all the little eye twitches that mean Semi is annoyed with something. He’s in the lucky position of knowing a mission to a snowy planet is Semi’s worst nightmare. 

Soon enough Semi’s winter gear is in a pile at his feet. Underneath he’s still wearing his all black stealth suit, damp from the snow. Kenjiro is thankful he gets to break into warm apartments and sit around trying to remotely hack mainframes instead of trekking through the elements in stiff, bulletproof fabric.

“How did it go?” Kenjiro asks.

Semi reaches into a breast pocket and pulls out a computer chip no bigger than a playing card. “It’s all right here.”

Kenjiro takes the chip carefully. It’s taken years to track this information down. It’s a record of all the raw, unaltered data from the last survey mission to the Earth—the same one Semi’s mother was on. The worst cruelty is he can’t examine it until they’re safely off planet. He cradles it in his hands as he moves deeper into the room to his bag, and tucks it away in a small case. Semi follows him, trailing water.

“How long until extraction?” Semi asks.

“Four hours, if we’re lucky,” Kenjiro says. “But with the lovely weather we’re having, it might be twice that.”

“Great. I’m going to sleep for all of it.”

“You’re that tired?” Kenjiro asks, facing Semi. His face is only slightly pink now, and the snow in his hair has melted.

“I guess I can spare a minute for a bath.”

“I see. So you’re going to leave me to my boredom again.”

“Well—” Semi says, defensive, because it wasn’t his fault that their communication line started fading in and out halfway through their mission, leaving Kenjiro to wonder if something went wrong. But Semi doesn’t have a chance to explain why he’s too good of a spy for Kenjiro to worry, because Kenjiro kisses him.

They really shouldn’t when they’re waiting for extraction. They need to be on alert. They say that before every single mission, but it’s never stopped them. Kenjiro needs a way to dispel all his nervous energy from being on dispatch while Semi needs something to ground him and pull him back from spy mode, and kissing is the perfect solution to both their problems. 

Semi pulls Kenjiro closer. His entire body is slightly damp, and he smells like sweat and mildew. “Gross,” Kenjiro mumbles while Semi trails kisses along his jaw.

“You could have waited until I bathed,” Semi points out. 

“Stop talking,” Kenjiro says, and he pulls on Semi’s top so he can claim Semi’s mouth with his own again. Semi tangles his fingers in Kenjiro’s hair, bites at Kenjiro’s lip, Kenjiro wraps his arms around Semi’s torso tightly—

“Ah!” Semi pulls back, hand clutched over his side. “Ow— _ shit _ .”

Kenjiro’s mind starts whirling. Semi’s in pain, he can see that, but he didn’t notice any obvious blood or wounds and didn’t think to check further. “Take that off, now,” Kenjiro orders, already scrambling through his bag for a medkit. Semi’s stupid stealth suit is designed to hide him from scanners, so Kenjiro can’t scan him for internal wounds when he’s wearing it. He should have taken it off immediately, and Kenjiro should have checked him, and,  _ shit _ , he fucked up.

Semi’s stealth suit has more zippers and clasps than his winter coat, but he undoes them quickly with practiced, thawed fingers. He pulls his arms out of the top half and lets it dangle around his waist. His white undershirt is pristine, if a bit soaked with sweat, and Kenjiro starts to breathe again.

“That too,” Kenjiro says, and Semi pulls his shirt over his head. His heart sinks. There’s a large bruise that’s already going a deep purple that covers about a third of Semi’s torso. “Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

“It didn’t hurt until now,” Semi says, nonchalant. He always downplays his injuries. Kenjiro hates him for it.

“Bullshit,” Kenjiro says, and before Semi can start talking about adrenaline he orders, “Sit down and don’t move.”

Semi sits on the couch. Kenjiro takes the medical scanner out of his kit and points it at him. The camera pans up and down, focusing on his chest, and a minute later it gives Kenjiro a list of any injuries. A jammed finger. Extremities that still need to warm up from the cold outside. A large contusion all along the left side. And, finally, a couple cracked ribs. Kenjiro frowns.

“It can’t possibly be that bad,” Semi says, taking the scanner to read for himself. He shrugs. “I’ll heal.”

“Just stop,” Kenjiro snaps. It could have been worse—it  _ has _ been worse—but that doesn’t mean Kenjiro has to like it. There is only one large pain patch in their medical kit, and Kenjiro is almost tempted to just slap it on Semi’s side and call it a day. He can’t bring himself to, though, and sticks it to his skin as gently as possible. It doesn’t cover all of Semi’s bruising.

As soon as it bonds with Semi’s skin, he lets out a long sigh. “Okay. Maybe it hurt worse than I realized.” Kenjiro knows they don’t have anything that can heal cracked ribs, but he checks the kit again anyway. Semi watches him. “Hey, these things take an hour to set, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe we should have waited until after I took a bath.”

Kenjiro pulls out some medical tape for Semi’s finger and slams the kit closed. “Why are you so preoccupied with taking a bath?”

“I stink.” Semi holds out his hand. Kenjiro sits next to him and starts taping his finger. “You hate it when I stink.”

“I’ll hold my breath for an hour,” Kenjiro grumbles. He tears the tape and smooths it out. Semi stretches his hand, inspecting Kenjiro’s handiwork.

“Hey,” Semi says. “Kenjiro.”

Kenjiro looks at him.

“I love you,” Semi says. He kisses Kenjiro once more, softly. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“You came back,” Kenjiro points out. 

Semi leans on his shoulder and lets out a sigh. “Wake me up in an hour,” he says.

“You’re going to get cold like that,” Kenjiro says, glancing at Semi’s still bare torso. Even with the heat on in the apartment, Kenjiro still has to wear a sweater. 

Semi doesn’t reply, though. His breathing evens out. Kenjiro rolls his eyes and, as carefully as he can, snags the blanket folded on the other side of the couch and spreads it over Semi. He’s starting to get heavy. Kenjiro wonders if he can make it through an hour without his arm falling asleep.

Kenjiro watches him for a bit. They’ve gotten a bit older since high school, and Semi has a few more scars, but Kenjiro can’t believe they’ve actually made progress on the promise they made. He presses his face in Semi’s hair. Semi’s right, he does stink and Kenjiro does hate it, but he has a few more important things on his mind.

“I love you too, Eita,” Kenjiro says. Semi smiles in his sleep.


End file.
